


Domestic Warfare

by ximeria



Series: 2014 Fic-A-Week (all the XMFC AUs) [16]
Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, Humor, Interior Decorating, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-20
Updated: 2014-04-20
Packaged: 2018-01-20 03:17:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1494562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ximeria/pseuds/ximeria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As good a team as Erik and Charles make in the field, they are a rather volatile combination when it comes to domestic chores.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Domestic Warfare

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aeshna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aeshna/gifts).



> This is entirely Smitty's fault - she's the one redecorating and painting the house at the moment. I also believe she'll recognize the line _she_ contributed to this.

Charles huffed as he ducked another paintbrush sweeping from the bucket to the wall - surprisingly not dripping anywhere en route. "The least you could do is bring the bucket of paint over to the wall instead of risking paint everywhere," he finally said, feeling the niggling annoyance grow. Even if they had plastic on the floor, it didn't mean they couldn't be responsible adults. He should have either done this on his own or let Erik handle it. While they did make a good team in the field, domestically they were a volatile chemical reaction, it seemed.

Erik just grunted in reply, but did nothing of the sort. Just repeated the act - paintbrush into bucket, held ,obviously, by the band of metal encasing it.

"Erik, seriously," Charles said, once again trying to tape the protective plastic onto the window frame.

"If you don't want to help, no one's keeping you here," Erik sing-songed. "The kids were smarter than you - left when they still could."

"They weren't smarter, they were bloody scared of you!" Charles threw back. Once again a brush careened through the room, but this time it did drip paint - onto Charles' shirt. "See! Told you this would happen!" The fact that it wasn't one of his favorite shirts didn't matter.

"I swear to whatever deity listening, Charles, if you keep this up, there'll be a lot more red going into the color scheme," Erik growled, conducting his little symphony that now involved no less than three paintbrushes dancing over the the walls. Simultaneously.

Charles would normally be impressed by this level of focus and control. Normally. "Just because you didn't get your way with the magenta scheme?" he asked sarcastically, turning around to find himself right in the line of one of the brushes, the bristles catching his shoulder and smearing pale beige paint onto it.

"Oops," Erik said, not sounding particularly sorry.

Charles frowned and focused his power on Erik. He took control and forced his arm in a sweep, leaving a dripping trail of paint across Erik's chest. From bare shoulder over the black tank top to the waistband of his trousers.

"Did you just-," Erik trailed off, raising an eyebrow. "You do know what that means, don't you?" he asked, faux pleasantly. 

"You're being an arse, so what did you expect from me?" Charles shot back.

"I just love the fact that everyone thinks you're a little, innocent telepath," Erik growled, advancing slowly on him, menace in every swing of his shoulders, every flex of his muscles.

Charles wasn't exactly intimidated by this, but he did have to fight down the usual wave of lust. It was a thing when it came to Erik. But Charles wasn't going to let him get away that easily. Not this time.

It didn't mean he didn't end up taking a few steps back as Erik loomed over him, though. Finding himself with his back against the newly painted wall.

Pressing Charles up against the wall, Erik leaned in, his breath hot against Charles' face. "I meant, I'd paint the walls with your blood, you dumbass."

Charles cast about for anything intelligent to say but his usually eloquent mind was completely left behind enemy lines as his blood rushed south of the waistband.

Erik pushed against him, then looked down between them, a smirk twisting his thin lips.

"All bark, no bite, Lehnsherr" Charles said, finally finding two brain cells to rub against one another.

"So it's biting you want today, is it?" Erik mumbled, his voice gravely and deep. With a quick movement of he pushed Charles harder against the wall, hooked one hand under Charles' thigh while forcing his head to the side with the other, sinking his teeth into the soft flesh of Charles' neck.

"Ah!" Charles bucked, trying to climb Erik, lifting his other leg up and hooking it over Erik's narrow hip.

"Always so responsive," Erik muttered against Charles' neck, while grinding into him.

"Some days I hate you," Charles muttered, sliding down the wall, paint sticking to the back of his shirt and head.

Erik went down with him, until he were kneeling on the floor, Charles' legs still tight around his hips. His hand strayed to Charles' backside, making him gasp as the strong fingers closed bruisingly around one cheek. "You always say that, but secretly you love it when I undo you."

Charles wanted to say it wasn't really 'secretly', but there was no reason telling Erik what he probably already knew.

The three paintbrushes dropped to the floor somewhere behind Erik, but Charles didn't much care.

"Good thing the kids scare easily," Erik muttered between kisses.

"They might find their courage and come to my rescue," Charles stuttered, arching to get a little more friction.

The door swung shut and the lock engaged. "Best we make use of the time we do have, then," Erik replied with a saucy wink and another squeeze to Charles' arse that made him squirm quite happily.

Charles yelped when Erik grabbed him harder, twisting around and dropping him onto his back on the plastic covering the floor. "Sorry, I think if we don't keep it down, the kids _will_ think you're killing me in here," Charles muttered, letting his head fall back to give Erik better access.

"Who says I'm not?" Erik growled mock menacingly, nipping at Charles' neck before manhandling him, tilting his hips just right.

Digging his fingers into Erik's shoulders, Charles lost himself in the friction, enjoying the combination of Erik's physical weight and power mixed with the lust coming off his mind in waves. "Yeah, fuck if I care," Charles muttered, "kill me, I don't care - the kids can clean up the mess afterwards."

Erik finally shut him up with a bruising kiss and Charles only considered continuing his comments inside Erik's head for a moment before letting their combined arousal wash him along. It meant that when he reached his own climax he hooked his mind to Erik's and ripped him along in his wake.

An unknown time later, Charles opened his eyes and realizing that he was, in fact, petting Erik's hair, where the other man was resting his head on Charles' chest. And Erik was letting him do so, contentedness coming off him in waves.

Charles could feel the paint drying in his hair, the back of his neck, shirt - not to mention the mess in his boxers would start to itch pretty soon. "I want to suggest a shower," Charles muttered, "but that would involve moving."

"In a bit," Erik mumbled back, barely audible where his face was squashed against Charles' chest. "Then the kids can finish the painting and you and I can have round two."

Charles snorted, but gave it some consideration. "Tub or shower?" he asked.

"Considering what I have in mind for you? Tub," Erik replied, sending Charles a few choice mental images.

"We should redecorate more often," Charles mused, scratching the back of Erik's head.

"The mansion's big - lots of rooms," Erik agreed. "I'm sure we can figure out a schedule."

This time Charles did laugh, deciding that a bath could wait a few more minutes.

The End


End file.
